Chapter 3

Would he come back? She wasn't sure. He'd come back what? Twice now? Three times? But what if he gave up on her? She couldn't risk being alone right now. Better to have a friend that she didn't quite trust than nothing at all. After all, the people she had trusted and known in her life hadn't ended up being who she thought they were so what was the difference in trusting a stranger. She peeked out of the door in time to see him disappear behind a tombstone. 'Where is he going,' she wondered to herself. In that moment she decided to follow him. She wouldn't let him know she was there, but she had to know where he was going. Quietly she left the tomb and followed him. Every once in a while he'd pause to look around for genecops before continuing on. She followed him rather easily through the cemetery without being noticed. Once they reached the cemetery gates and entered the city it was a different story. Graverobber didn't hide himself here. He kept to the shadows, but he didn't worry about being caught here. Although Shilo kept her distance and he didn't bother to look back there was little Shilo could have done to hide if he had decided to. He weaved his way through the city darting down back alley's and venturing deeper and deeper into the seedy side of the city. After a half ab hour of following at a distance and ducking behind the nearest trash bin or dumpster whenever it seemed Graverobber was going to turnaround and catch her tailing him, he disappeared into a boarded up building. The building was old and in obvious disrepair. The boards on the window that he had crawled through were weathered and gray with age. She stood in the dark outside of the broken window debating whether or not she should follow him in when he stuck his head out of the hole.

"Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there?" He asked impatiently. He disappeared inside once again and after a seconds hesitation Shilo tentatively followed his lead. Inside, the building was dark and dank. It smelled of mold and dirt and stale air. Faint moonlight streamed through cracks in the boards covering the windows to reveal broken crates and newspapers that littered the floor. A metal drum sat in the middle of the space. Paint peeled from the walls. The ceiling was cracked and plaster had fallen off in chunks.

She moved slowly, straining to see against the dull light so she wouldn't trip over the clutter that Graverobber seemed to avoid effortlessly. "How long have you known I was there?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Since the graveyard. You think it usually takes a half an hour for me to get here? Why did you think I took so many back alleys and turns? I was hoping I'd lose you. I don't like people following me"Shilo's face turned red with embarrassment. Thankfully the darkness hid the blood that rushed to her pale cheeks. She followed Graverobber around a corner and up a rickety flight of stairs that creaked and groaned with every step. Shilo started with every moan of the wood beneath her feet. She feared that the steps would crumble beneath her. Grave robber went down the hall and disappeared into a room whose door was dangling from a single hinge. She followed shyly and was surprised by what she saw. On the floor in a corner was a filthy mattress covered in moth eaten rags. Stuffing poked out from holes in the mattress and a spring hung hazardously out of a tear in one corner. There were more rags and worn blankets piled in the far corner of the room. The dark wallpaper was stained and hung from the walls in strips. A pair of tattered curtains hung from the boarded up window. A chair sat in a corner beside a plastic milk crate with a bowl of water and a rag on it. He shrugged off his coat and tool kit slung them over the back of the chair and began unfastening his holsters and setting each piece delicately on the seat, careful not to crack the fragile glass vials. Shilo was shocked. "What.... is this place?"

Graverobber paused and looked at her shocked expression. "I call it home." And with that he began stripping off his shirt. Shilo clutched the strap to her bag til her knuckles turned white. She felt like an intruder. She didn't belong here. This was meant to be a private place, a sanctuary, and she knew it. He placed his shirt on top of the pile of zydrate vials and holsters and the gun and dipped the rag into the water. He wiped the make up off of his face and turned to Shilo. She was stunned. He was leaner and more muscular than she'd thought he would be. His body had been honed by years of running from the law and fighting to survive. She quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed that she found him at all attractive. The fact that he was standing in front of her half naked didn't seem to bother him at all.

She looked around the room again avoiding meeting his gaze. "This is where you live?" Curiosity tainted her words.

"Is that really so hard to believe?"

She thought about it for a split second. No, she couldn't imagine him living in a normal house like a normal person. She hadn't ever really thought about someone like him having a place to call home. People like him were just a given in life. They appeared at night and conducted their seedy underground businesses and illegal trades and disappeared with the morning. "But, the Zydrate," she said questioningly, "you must make a killing selling it. Why live here?"

He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why not? I make my money, but this is far more interesting than living like a rich prick isn't it? Besides, I like it. It's quiet, or at least it used to be. I'm not really big on visitors."

She looked at the floor ashamedly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed you but...."but what? But I was afraid you wouldn't come back? But I didn't want to be alone? But I need you? There was nothing she could honestly say that he wouldn't use against her, but what could she tell him? There didn't seem to be a good enough excuse to follow a man whose help had already been outright refused. "I'm sorry. I'll go. I shouldn't be here."

She began to leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You can stay, but you're gonna owe me."

A chill crept down her spine. What was that supposed to mean? She should leave right now. Just go back the way she came and forget about him, but she didn't. There was a part of her that trusted him. Just a tiny little part that knew he wouldn't hurt her.... she hoped. She faced him. "Thank you." It was then she noticed the scar on his side. Not very noticeable, just a thin white line on the right side of his body that curved from the very bottom of his ribcage to his hip. Without thinking she reached out and traced the line with her finger tips. The feel of her skin against his sent a shock through Graverobbers body. He stored the feeling in the back of his mind. A sense memory locked away and not soon forgotten. Something he could reflect on later. "You've had surgery?" She asked.

He gave her that half cocked grin of his. "Nope. I am one hundred percent genuine. Pure unadulterated me. What about you? Organ transplant? Face lift? Liposuction? Boob job?" His eyes lingered on her chest for a moment at this before he once again smiled and began throwing blankets around on the mattress, seemingly in some random fashion that she was sure was either his way of getting out of an uncomfortable topic, or to try to make what could only loosely be called a bed something you could actually sleep on.

"Never," was all she said. "But that scar...."

He finished arranging the "bed" and sat on the edge to take his boots off. He tossed them casually aside and laid down with his arms behind his head. "I don't exactly lead a glamorous life, kid. What I do is dangerous and I have the scars to prove it," he paused and smirked, "would you like to see?" Shilo just rolled her eyes at his obscene humor, she'd gotten used to it by now. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." When she didn't move he gave her an expectant stare. "You might as well make yourself at home." She dropped her bag in the corner and scanned the sparsely furnished room. "You can come over here and lie down you know, I won't bite... much." She weighed her options and decided to decline his offer. She went over to the pile of rags in the corner and made herself a nest in the middle of them. He watched her with amusement as she curled up in the middle of them. The sight of her nestled there made him smile. He rolled over on his side and faced the wall. He wanted her to be lying beside him. He had always assumed that she'd never been touched by the scalpel, but these days you could never be sure. That fact more than any other made his blood hot. He wanted her more than ever. He just wanted to hold her in his arms, to feel true flesh beneath his fingers. He wanted to kiss her and taste her unmarred, untouched skin. It had been so long since he'd felt something real. Amber, the rest of the junkies that gave themselves to him in alley's, they were all plastic and designer parts. He could feel the difference. They tasted like ashes, shadows of reality. Superficially perfect and unreal. Everyone was so fake now that he'd forgotten what it felt like to have real skin on his own. He closed his eyes and imagined running his hands over every inch of perfectly imperfect skin. He pulled a blanket over himself and slipped into uneasy dreams.

Shilo lay awake as the sun rose, seeping weak blueish light through the cracked boards on the lone window. She rearranged the rags in which she was curled and turned constantly trying to get comfortable. She didn't understand, she'd spent the last week of her life sleeping on stone without even a blanket to cover herself with and now she was having trouble sleeping. It was a miracle that she hadn't frozen to death. As it was she had a slight cough, but that was nothing to complain about. Still, why couldn't she sleep now? It was as though she'd been oblivious to the cold or discomfort in the her mothers tomb. Now she could feel the drafts where the wind leaked through broken glass and weathered wood. She felt cold and uncomfortable and alone. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because at least in the graveyard she had been with her mother. No, that was a lie too. Her mother's body had been taken from there long ago. There was nothing comfortable here, nothing she knew, except Graverobber. She looked at him sleeping across the room. His hair spread over his toned bare back. The thin hole covered blanket that he had been covered with was now twisted around him and she wondered how he could possibly be comfortable. She weighed her situation in her head. She was cold and lonely and, though she hated to admit it, scared of what would happen to her if Graverobber tired of having her around. She wished she knew what went on in his head. Why was he keeping her around, what did he really want from her? What would he do if he didn't get whatever it was that he was after? She wasn't even thinking of the drug anymore. Things didn't seem so bad as long as she had someone. She didn't feel as alone in the world with Graverobber there, even if he mocked her and had a twisted perverted sense of humor. He was honest with her. That alone was more important than anything else. She been lied to for so long that his blunt honesty was comforting. She got up and tiptoed over to the rotten mattress where he lay in a deep sleep. As gently as she could, she curled up next to him on the lumpy cushion. She buried her face in his long hair and pressed her body close to his so that she felt his skin on hers. She drifted into peaceful sleep as his warmth seeped into her frozen bones.